


Ameliora

by archfaith



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Battle of Endor, Brother-Sister Relationships, Darth Vader Lives, Darth Vader Redemption, Death Star, Endor, Ewoks (Star Wars), Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Good Parent Anakin Skywalker, Movie: Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Multi, POV Anakin Skywalker, POV Luke Skywalker, Parent Darth Vader, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Protective Leia Organa, Protective Luke, Redemption, Star Wars: Original Trilogy Era, Young Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archfaith/pseuds/archfaith
Summary: What if Vader had encountered a regeneration/de-aging device before the Battle of Endor during Return of the Jedi? How would things have turned out differently if Anakin had lived?--Anakin definitely has complicated feelings about being alive. But now, as Luke had instructed, he needs stay calm and lie low. If he's going to survive, and moreover, not cause any problems for Luke--he was going to have to behave.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, R2-D2 & Anakin Skywalker, R2-D2 & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 37
Kudos: 271





	1. Regeneration

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was originally published from 2007 - 2011 on fanfiction.net! I've always loved this fanfic, and I felt that it was time to make the migration over to AO3. I've been revising it for some time now, and will take some time uploading all seventeen chapters up here. Thanks for reading.

_ One month before the Battle of Endor (4 BBY)--Aboard Vader’s Star Destroyer, the Executor _

It was a large, cylinder-shaped machine;built of various metals fused together for their combined power, the outside was smooth and shiny. Various plates were missing from the surface, exposing the multitude of wires and chargers within. A simple panel was the machine's only exterior decoration, save for a switch to open its hatch—the panel was simple, with only four buttons and a number gauge. One could enter the machine through a small hatch that slid aside to let one through; the inside was hollow, and big enough to fit a creature the size of a Hutt. The interior was lit with bright yellow bulbs attached to the machine's inner ceiling—it was deceptively plain within, and betrayed nothing of the machine's true power.

Vader could feel himself tingling within, just by studying it.  _ Such power,  _ he thought, behind his mask.  _ It could very well be used to my advantage, without Palpatine’s knowledge… _

"Lord Vader?" A young scientist clad in a white jacket had appeared next to him, his voice slightly cracking as he addressed the Dark Lord of the Sith for the first time in his life. "My lord…I was told that you had some questions about the regenerator…I am at your command."

Vader looked impatiently behind him, just in time to observe the young officer's nervous face. "Yes," he replied after a few seconds' pause. "I am sure that your team has properly examined the device. Has it been confirmed?" asked the low, booming voice.

The scientist nodded in resigned submission. "Yes, my lord," he answered. "It is an authentic age regeneration mechanism, built with molecular restructuring capabilities."

Vader looked back to the looming, circular device. "From what period?"

"We are unsure, my lord. It seems to have been built about three hundred to three hundred and twenty-five years ago. We believe that it may have been developed by a group of politicians on Coruscant; there were records that were found with the machine that indicate its funding. It was commissioned to be built in a secret laboratory on Coruscant by a scientist who specialized in regenerative surgery. We were lucky enough to find it during a scrap retrieval operation last month."

"The names of these politicians…the scientist?"

"We were not able to find these out, my lord…they were careful to erase all information about themselves after the machine was deemed unstable. They were probably fearful of being noticed by the Senate for their illegal experiments on prisoners."

_ No matter _ , Vader thought, looking back to the device.  _ It is here, and within my grasp.  _ "What are its supposed capabilities?" he asked, turning back to the young scientist.

"According to these scant notes," the officer began, looking down at his data screen, "it can regenerate lost cells and tissue from existing molecular information. The machine had previously been tested on lower life forms, such as Hutts and Wookies, but proved fatal when administered to humans. Apparently it can reverse the aging process, as well as regenerate lost limbs and other extremities."

"A restorer of youth, it would seem," Vader said reflectively. "This could prove useful to us, then. Officer, I want your team ready to service and test this device within a month's time. I am sure the Emperor will be most pleased if you were able to successfully administer this device to humans. I want this device brought aboard the second Death Star at once."

"Yes, my lord," the young officer replied meekly, bowing as he turned to leave the room.

Vader turned to exit, but cast a last glance at the machine before he left.  _ I can yet be restored, _ he told himself in a calm, yet impatient tone.  _ It would not be fitting to assume control of the galaxy behind this mask. No…if everything goes as planned, Luke and I will assume control of the galaxy in youthful age, together. _

He smiled behind his mask.

-

_ During the Battle of Endor (4 BBY)--Aboard the Second Death Star _

"Father!"

Vader forced his eyes open at the sound of his son's voice. Luke’s face hovered only inches away from his own; between the mask that separated them, he could see tears welling up from the corners of his son's eyes.

Vader was still shaking; his body, wracked with the powerful electricity of the now-dead Emperor's convulsing attacks, was weakened almost to the point of death. He could hardly speak, and even moving a limb was out of the question. The cybernetics within his body had been damaged by the Force lightning; his life systems were slowly draining, and it was all he could do to take weak, respirator-damaged breaths.

"Luke," he whispered, wishing he could see his son's face without his mask. The boy blinked down at him, and Vader noted that his son was crying, a single tear tracing its way down his cheek.

"Don't talk," Luke answered firmly, his voice heavy. Vader did not respond, and Luke took the opportunity to wrap an arm around his waist. "We're getting out of here…together."

Vader shook his head in self-deprecation. "It is too late for me, Luke…go. It is over...leave me here."

"No," his son answered firmly, shifting himself into a sitting position. "Come," he whispered, slowly pulling Vader up with him. "I won't leave you here."

"Luke," Vader chided once again, motioning him to leave. "You—"

"I won't leave you." Luke's voice was gentle, yet unyielding. In the space of a moment Vader realized he had no choice—Luke would either force him up, or they would both end up dying as the second Death Star's core convulsed and folded on itself. Luke's life depended on how quickly he and Vader could make it to a shuttle; it was clear that his son was not going to abandon him. Vader had to save himself—for Luke's sake.

With a groan, Vader shifted into a squatting position, and together they managed to pull him up off the floor. "Put your arm around my shoulder," Luke said, guiding Vader's still-shaking hand. "I don't know how to get out of here…you'll need to tell me."

Vader nodded weakly. "Alright," he agreed, suddenly feeling an incredible deluge of protectiveness wash over him. He looked over to his son—the child he thought dead for so many years; no, one of his two children he thought dead. He had not known that there had been another child—a daughter. So they were both alive. Obi-Wan had done well to hide them from him…

"Which way?" Luke asked frantically as Vader shook himself free from the reverie. They had only advanced a few paces, into the small elevator that connected to the Emperor's throne room. A sickening crunch sounded beneath the room's metal walkways as they almost fell into the elevator, Luke supporting nearly all of Vader's weight as another wrenching crack shook the Death Star's core.

Vader raised his head slightly, looking at the small control panel attached to the wall. "Go to the forty-fifth level…the evacuation shuttles are located in the hangar there…" he whispered. Luke had already punched in the appropriate commands as the elevator began to move downwards.

Panting with exhaustion, Luke helped Vader to kneel against the cold metal floor, keeping a hand on his shoulder the entire time. "What if the stormtroopers try to stop us?" he asked, looking over to his father.

"They won’t," Vader answered. "The evacuation signal has already been given—they will be too busy trying to save their own skins."

Luke nodded, with slight apprehension. "We'll take a shuttle then…I'll pilot it back to Endor, and then we'll…" his voice died as he realized to whom he would be bringing Vader back to. "We'll just take it from there," he finished quickly.

"Your Rebel friends will not exactly be warm to you once they realize that you are harboring the most heinous man in the galaxy, Luke," Vader replied coolly.

Luke shook his head, even though he knew that what his father said was true. He had come too far, sacrificed too much, to give up this time with his father. It was a reunion that was twenty-three years overdue; he would be damned if even the Rebel Alliance, his closest allies, tried to take his moment away from him. Once he and Vader arrived on Endor, he would decide what would need to be done. Even if it meant hiding Vader from the alliance, he would find a way to keep his presence undetected. Emotion overcame his reason—even though, only mere minutes earlier, Vader had the very person he wanted to destroy, now he had become the life that Luke was intent on saving.

The elevator suddenly shook, and with a spasm, stopped dead. The lights flickered on and off within, and Luke could smell the odor of burning metal seeping through the pores of the metal grid below them. He looked over to the control panel; not the forty-fifth level, as Vader had instructed, but only the fifty-first.

He cursed under his breath as Vader looked up at the panel. Luke quickly rose to his feet and examined the small panel of buttons. The smell of electrical wires lent a pungent odor to the room; in vain, Luke ran his hands over the switches. They had all ceased to work; the lights flickered on and off in the cramped room, and Luke pounded his fists down on the panel in frustration.  _ We're never going to get out of here _ , he told himself.  _ I have to open the door… _

There was no doubt that Vader could have wrenched the door open with his bare hands—if he had been in a fit condition, that was. Now a crumpled, dying figure hunched over on the floor of the elevator, he was unable even to stand on his own. Luke shook his head incredulously. No; he would have to open the doors himself.

Turning to the metal doors of the elevator, he calmed his mind and let his brain focus on the task at hand. They had to get out of the elevator; he somehow had to pry the doors open before the cables supporting the elevator snapped altogether. It would only be a matter of minutes now…

He closed his eyes; the vaporous odors of the burning wires, the continual explosions shaking the now-swinging elevator, the labored noises of Vader's dying breaths—he pushed the disturbing atmosphere away from his mind. He recalled the swamp in Dagobah, recalled Yoda's small yet powerful frame, and the advice the aged Jedi Master had given him those many months before.

_ Do, or do not. There is no try. _

Though his eyes were closed, he could see the elevator's metal doors clearly now; raising his arm, he held his hand out, palm side up, towards the door. A Jedi cannot falter.

_ I will not try. I will do. _

With a surge of mental strength, he crunched his hand into a fist—the actions of his body paralleled those of his target. When he opened his eyes, the metal door looked as though it had been crumpled like a piece of paper. The mental exercise had taken much energy out of him.; sighing, he gathered his strength for a moment before turning back to his father.

Vader had been watching with a quiet hopefulness; so, the boy had indeed learned the ways of the Jedi. But for one with such scant training as he—to have crushed open the metal door with simply a gesture of his hand…! It had taken years for Vader himself to perfect the motions of this crushing attack, and Luke…

"Yoda taught you well, young one," he said, as Luke helped him to his feet. "You will become very powerful."

"He was a good teacher," Luke answered absently, kicking aside the remaining pieces of the door that blocked their way. They quickly stepped through, with no time to waste—as soon as Vader's cape had billowed out of the doorway, a snapping noise was heard from below. Luke scarcely had time to look behind him as the elevator dropped, leaving only a smoking shaft of wires behind.

Turning his attention to the task at hand, he quickly looked around. They stood in a darkened hallway, a wide corridor with only a few doors on either side. Tall, arched metal beams framed the length of the hall, lending an imposing look to the cold, sterile environment. "Father…how do we get down from here?" Luke asked, turning to the dark lord.

"There is a stairway at the end of the hall," Vader answered, with difficulty. He felt the respirator's emergency air supply suddenly cut off; in a frantic gesture, he tightened his grasp around Luke's neck. Luke turned to him in alarm; just as quickly, Vader felt the air pump back into his lungs, and relaxed his grip. "Are you alright?!" Luke demanded.

"For now," Vader answered in relief. "Come, let's hurry."

The two struggled down the corridor, Luke supporting most of Vader's weight against his own as they walked down the dark corridor, the explosions now and then jarring the floor and ceiling. Luke's mind was entirely focused on getting down to the end of the hallway—he almost pulled Vader along with him as he hurried them down the corridor. Once they got to the stairs, they would need to descend six flights down, and from there…

Vader's mind, however, was focused on something completely different. In his clouded, weak state, he had barely noticed that this was the laboratory wing. It was, of course, deserted by now—not even the enormous salary the Emperor's scientists were paid could keep them from staying at their posts after even the slightest disturbance. Did this mean…?

They passed a door which had been left open, no doubt by one of the escaping scientists; Vader motioned Luke to stop, and turned his head towards the open doorway. "Luke…bring me to that room."

Luke looked back, puzzled. "Why? We need to get out of here."

The dark lord's voice was weak as he tried to struggle out of Luke's grasp. "Just take me there, son," he commanded gently. "What lies in that room could help us more than you could ever imagine."

Shaking his head in doubt, Luke turned and ambled back towards the doorway. He and Vader stepped inside the darkened laboratory, completely bare save for a large, cylindrical structure in the corner. It looked to be some sort of machine—completely smooth on the outside, save for a switch to open a doorway, and a panel with some buttons and a gauge on it.

They would only have one opportunity, Vader thought to himself as he and Luke neared the device. If the machine failed, Vader would die—not that he was not about to live, anyway. What had he to lose? Either he would die passively, in the arms of his son in one of the corridors of the collapsing Death Star—or he could die actively, trying to renew himself within the mysterious regeneration mechanism. He would not let himself expire so easily.

"Put me in this machine, Luke," he commanded.

"What the hell is this thing?" Luke asked impatiently. "We're wasting time!"

"If this is successful, young one, you and I will have much to be thankful for," Vader said cryptically, reaching towards the switch on the machine's surface. The hatch slid open, and Vader anxiously tried to advance within. "Hurry," he whispered. "We do not have much time…"

Confused and angry, Luke almost shoved Vader into the machine, his breathing quickening as he knelt upon the floor of the mechanism. His torn black cape scraped against the side of the door, ripped, and fell like a sheet of darkness against the floor outside the machine. Luke propped him against the inner walls before stepping out himself; looking at the panel set against the machine's smooth surface, he cast a puzzled eye towards his father. "What should I do?"

Vader had spent long hours in the laboratory observing the scientists at their work; breathing heavily, he raised his head. "Push all the buttons," he instructed.  _ This is going to be a difficult job. _

Luke did as he was told, and quickly noticed that the number gauge reading zero. "Should I put a number in?" he almost screamed as another explosion ripped through the bowels of the Death Star. Stumbling slightly, he gripped the doorway of the mechanism as Vader felt himself shake once again in a slight convulsion.

"Put in the number twenty-two," he said. "Then close the hatch."

Luke quickly adjusted the numbers, and then turned to the switch. "Father…just tell me what this thing is going to do to you," he said, pleading.

Vader shook his head. There was no time to explain. "Time will tell you in the end. Hurry…close it."

Shaking his head, Luke flipped the switch; the hatch clamped shut, leaving Vader in a claustrophobic blackness.

It was pitch black within; for one second, Vader felt as though entombed. A creeping fear had begun to well up inside him when the lights inside the machine suddenly flickered on. He heard a slight whirring of the machine's mechanisms, and felt a low hum sound within the small chamber.

This would be the final test; only a few days earlier, the scientists had successfully been able to regenerate the arms and legs of a Twi'lek prisoner, who had been injured during a prior battle. Still, the machine remained untested upon humans; Twi'leks were humanoid, true, but still not the same species. The scientists had made some adjustments to the mechanism since then, intending to test it upon a human prisoner.

_ I will be the subject _ , Vader thought grimly as the machine's systems woke from their dormant state.  _ We will see whether I can survive this procedure. _

A cold electronic voice sounded within the walls of the machine. "Clothing and armor have been detected. Commencing disintegration."

Vader shut his eyes and braced himself. The walls of the machine glowed bright red for just an instant; Vader felt the cloth and leather of his bodysuit melt off his body, along with the reinforced shoulder blades and padding against his chest. The cold mask seemed to turn into ash upon his face—the mask that, for so long, had been his refuge as well as his life support.

It was an odd feeling; it did not hurt, but he felt a strange tingling within him as he struggled to sit up, the cybernetic arms and legs now visible against his pale, naked body. The respirator which connected his lungs to an oxygen monitor built into his side looked damaged and raw. It had been so long since he had seen himself like this…

"Cybernetic additions to the body have been detected. Commencing disintegration of metals and electronics."

_ Now this is going to hurt. _

In the next second, he felt as though his arms and legs had been ripped off his body a second time—the machine did its duty well, cleanly ripping the cyborg limbs from his burnt flesh, leaving chunks of dead skin strewn about the floor and cutting open veins and arteries that had been artificially sealed. The respirator's tubes were roughly pulled out of his mouth, as was the monitor built into his side—as he threw his head back to scream, no sound emerged. His tongue rolled out of his mouth, gasping for air as he tried to scream in vain.

_ Luke...Luke..  _ he thought, closing his eyes as a copious pool of blood began to form beneath him, oozing out of the torn stump of his body. Through the Force, he felt the boy respond; from outside, he was trying desperately to stop the mechanism's forces, to no avail. He felt his father's pain; Vader could feel his anguish cry out in pain with him. There was no turning back, not any longer…

"Rebuilding of tissues is set. Limb reconstruction is set. Bodily restructuring is set. Age regeneration is set to twenty-two. Commencing procedure."

As he gagged on the blood that was now pouring out of his mouth, the walls of the chamber again began to change—Vader dimly saw the colors change from red to blue to orange, and back again as he lay slumped on the floor of the machine.

He gasped for air once again, and was utterly astonished to realize that he could now breathe—yet no respirator was attached to his body. His lungs filled with the life-giving air, and he breathed in deeply, crying out in relief with a deep, low groan.

He felt a spinning sensation on all sides of his body, as if he were being woven into a long, epic tapestry by the hands of skilled mechanical loom; opening his azure blue eyes, his blurry vision noted the robotic needles and scissors that had emerged from the walls of the mechanism. They seemed to be lightly scraping against his skin; first against his chest, then down to the stumps of his arms, and over down to his leg sockets. It was an almost calming feeling; though he felt a whirring inside his brain, he let himself drift off into a lazy stupor as the robotic appendages spun over his body, suddenly feeling new pieces of flesh molding into his existing veins and exposed bones.

He was still shaking; it seemed like an eternity before the appendages seemed to wind up their operations, and slowly retreated back into the walls of the machine. Sighing with his new lungs, Vader forced his eyes open as the machine's lights dimmed. "Procedure is complete," the voice said as the hatch slid open. Vader jumped to his feet in preparation—there was no time to lose.

-

The outside of the machine was a complete mess; smoke had erupted out of the panel, and several exposed wires had blown their fuses as Luke had heard the various stages of the "procedure" being performed inside. His father's incredible pain and torture had caused him to try to break the machine open; nothing Vader could have possibly hoped for was worth this pain.

"Father!" he yelled in alarm as the hatch opened. He readied himself for what he would find there; in his mind, he imagined a dead stump of flesh, bleeding from all its pores with its mouth frozen open in a silent cry of pain. Had his father died for nothing? Was he…

Smoke billowed out of the hatch in waves; coughing, Luke surged through the smoke, clearing it with his hands as he tried to peer into the dark chamber. "Father!" he screamed, tears streaming down his face. It was all over now—

A hand suddenly emerged out of the grey, steaming smoke; a human arm, with tanned muscular skin reached out to squeeze Luke's shoulder. Luke almost jumped back in surprise—by this time, the smoke had begun to clear, and Luke saw the kneeling figure materialize out of the darkness as he himself fell to the floor outside the chamber in shock.

“Father,” he could only whisper in amazement. “Father…?”

Vader smiled weakly; he felt the muscles of his cheeks stretch as he peered up at his astonished son. "Good work, Luke," he whispered mildly, bemused by Luke's stunned expression. Their two pairs of blue eyes met for the first time in their lives.

"It's me, Luke…it's Anakin."

To be continued.


	2. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a newly de-aged and regenerated Anakin, Luke escapes from the second Death Star and tries to figure out what he and Anakin are going to do.

_ During the Battle of Endor--Aboard the Second Death Star _

His skin was lightly tanned, and seemed darkened by the light of a sun; he was slender yet muscular, his sinewy limbs long and lean. His wavy hair started out blonde at the roots, and resolved into a light brownish hue which tapered just above his shoulders. And his eyes—azure blue, just like those of his son.

Flashing a weak smile, Vader—Anakin—tried to rise. In one instant, however, he felt his conscious mind suddenly leaving him—closing his eyes, he fell forwards, fainting in exhaustion from the strenuous regenerative process.

Luke, still lying stunned on the floor, caught him, and was dazed for a few seconds before realizing that they had to move. He was still shocked, unable to comprehend what had just occurred.  _ Was that machine capable of de-aging? _ he thought wildly, his mind pulled in different directions as he struggled to process the sight of the young man in front of him.

_ Twenty-two _ ...he thought, remembering the number that Vader--Anakin--had provided to him to punch into the number screen. Luke had merely thought it was a strength gauge; but now, looking down at his father, he realized that it had been an age-setting device _. _

Luke had scarcely thought of Vader as anything more than a formerly human cyborg in a suit of black armor—he had tried to imagine what his father had looked many times before, and he had always failed. It was incredible.  _ So I got these blue eyes from you, huh... _

He was knocked out of his reverie by another explosion, jarring the floor on which he knelt with the naked young man, still in a swoon from the machine's processes. There was no time to waste—Luke could wonder all he wanted, but he could ask questions later. They had to move  _ now _ .

He noticed that a large piece of Vader's—Anakin's—cape had been ripped off before he was put in the chamber, and now lay on the floor next to them. Quickly gathering it up, he hastily wrapped it around Anakin's naked form as another smaller explosion caused the machine before them to shake and shiver. Even in an unconscious state, Anakin—for Luke could not think of him as Vader any longer—seemed to be testing out control of his facial muscles. Eyes still closed, he knit his eyebrows in a worried sort of expression as Luke tried to determine if he could successfully carry him. "Luke," he muttered, in a youthful, unfiltered voice that nonetheless carried the familiar cadence of his father’s voice. “We must hurry..."

"I know," Luke answered. It felt strange to be talking to his father like this. Anakin felt more like a brother than a father, especially in this circumstance--Anakin was now twenty-two to Luke’s twenty-three.

Gently, Luke scooped Anakin up from the floor, holding him almost as one would hold a sleeping child. Anakin was not exactly light, but he was light enough that Luke could swing his sinewy legs over his arms; his head lolled against Luke's shoulder as Luke rose.

_ Don’t think,  _ Luke instructed himself as he hefted Anakin’s weight into his arms. He knew that if he started thinking, his mind would bubble over with questions about what had just happened. He was still bewildered as he exited the room, walking as quickly as he could down the corridor. Anakin had collapsed back into an unconscious state; his lower body was wrapped in the thin cape, yet he shivered from the cold of the dark hall.  _ He hasn't felt cold in twenty years. _

The door to the stairway was open; Luke rushed through and almost hurtled down the stairs with Anakin, as they descended down multiple flights. Darkened stairwell opened on darkened stairwell; though it was only six flights down, it seemed like an eternity before Luke found a sign that read, in freshly-inscribed Aurebesh, "Level 45". He quickly punched the buttons on the door, and the doorway slid open.

Anakin had been right about the guards and stormtroopers; they were too busy evacuating to even care that a few young Rebels were trying to escape as well. Normally, a known member of the sworn enemy party, kidnapping what seemed to be a man of his own age, would have been the cause of some investigation. But the Empire was not known for hiring intelligent servants, and Luke ran relatively unnoticed into the gigantic hangar. Ten or fifteen shuttles stood waiting for their troops. All around him, guards rushed away from their posts, followed by suspicious-looking superior officers, who every now and then looked around themselves to make sure that no one would be impeding their escape.

Luke chose the shuttle closest to where they had exited; dodging behind some crates of supplies, he chose the opportune time when the stormtroopers decided to look away to quickly board the ship. Running up the gangway, Anakin still in a faint against his shoulder, he barely had time to look back before a laser shot narrowly missed his back. He quickly closed the gangway by pushing a switch; the stormtroopers had noticed him, but it was too late.

In a wild state of energy, he threw Anakin down on one of the bunks near the back of the shuttle; hurrying to the cockpit, he set himself down and flipped on a couple of switches. He had never flown anything like this shuttle, but it was similar enough to Alliance vessels that he could make a few educated guesses. Setting the autopilot at top speed to Endor, he buckled himself down and braced himself for the rough departure.

He heard several more blaster shots; the ship took a few laser hits from the stormtroopers, who quickly realized that a precious evacuation shuttle had stolen right under their noses. Still, the ship was able to lift off from the hangar, and glided gently out into space before gaining speed.

Panting with stress and exhaustion, Luke quickly turned the communications systems on, and scanned the area looking for any possible allies. He quickly found one; the  _ Millenium Falcon's _ communication system was linked up to a private frequency, and remembering the Alliance's secret code, he quickly established a link to the old ship he had grown to know so well. Knowing the  _ Falcon _ and the other Rebel were on the lookout for any Imperial vessels, he worked quickly to secure his safe passage. He knew Lando was currently piloting the ship, and called out to him in desperation.

"Lando!" he called, screaming into the comlink. "Do  _ not _ fire! It's me, Luke…I got off the Death Star with this shuttle! Scan this ship and give the immunity signal to the rest of the troops."

Lando's suave voice buzzed back to him immediately. "Got you, Luke…hear that, everyone?" he asked, evidently addressing the rest of the Rebel fleet on a different frequency. "Commander Skywalker's in an Imperial shuttle, identification number one-one-three-eight. This shuttle is officially off-limits to the fleet, hear me? Let him pass!"

After a brief pause Lando's voice returned. "You're all clear, Luke…get on back to Endor, they're all waiting for you!"

"Will do," Luke answered. "Be careful, old friend." He heard a slight chuckle over the comlink as the connection closed.

Falling back with a sigh, in a few minutes he saw the  _ Falcon _ and several dozen x-wings whiz by him on their way to destroy the Death Star—they cleared a path for him through space, and he saw the green moon floating in the distance. They would arrive in a little under an hour and a half, and the autopilot would guide them safely to a landing strip near the Imperial bunker, where the Rebels had set up a temporary base.

They were safe.

Luke let out a sigh, and fell back in the pilot's seat trying to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exhaustion, and his hair was slick against his sweating face. With a slight groan, he sat up once again, trying to contain his composure; there was someone who yet needed his assistance. He stood up, and quickly exited the cockpit. Passing several small supply closets equipped with medicine and rations, he reached the back area of the shuttle. Several bunks had been built into the wall—Anakin lay sprawled on out one of them, in the same position Luke had dumped him a few minutes before.

Anakin had been conscious for a few minutes now—he was aware that he lay in the back of an evacuation shuttle, and that they had escaped the Death Star. He tested out his eyesight with an amused, subtly ecstatic joy—he could  _ see _ . He could see without the aid of a mask, without electronic receptors built into his eyes. 

He felt a sudden movement in the Force; Luke was near. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them to greet his son.  _ I hope Luke is always near me from now on. _

Luke crossed the room and came to stand next to the bunk, looking Anakin over with a critical eye. There were still too many questions, too much mystery; he could not accept Anakin as his father without at least some answers. 

Anakin immediately reached out his hand, with no sentiments as to what he meant, or how he felt. It was instinctual, and unlike the last time he offered Luke his hand--back on Cloud City, during his attempt to turn him to the Dark Side--Luke took it simply, grasping his hand with a gentle squeeze.

“Were you injured?” Anakin asked, furrowing his brow. He was still disoriented, unable to talk or explain much at the moment.

Luke sighed. “No,” he replied. “But I’ve been better,” he admitted. He sat down on the bunk, next to Anakin’s prone form. He tilted his head as he studied Anakin carefully.  _ Still too hard to believe… _

Anakin returned his gaze thoughtfully. “It  _ is _ me,” he insisted. “I know it seems impossible, but it’s me.”

“I believe you,” Luke said. “I just don’t understand.”

Anakin looked up at him. “That machine was a regeneration device,” he explained simply. “I had it brought aboard the Death Star so that I could renew myself.”

“And you knew you could do this?” Luke asked. “You knew that you’d be able to make yourself younger? And regenerate your limbs?”

Anakin shook his head. “No,” he answered. “It was a gamble. I was lucky.”

Luke shook his head. He had seen stranger things, it was certain. And something inside him said that it would be wiser to just accept the situation than to try and question it. Vader was now Anakin again, and that change was permanent. “Well, here you are,” he said, resigning himself to the fact that he would never know how exactly it had happened. “And we’re safe.”

“And alive,” Anakin added. 

Luke nodded. If he could still believe anything, that was it. 

_ And we are together. _

Luke felt Anakin's inner soul ebbing within him, with a quiet kind of joy. He looked back to the young man who still lay sprawled out on the bunk. Anakin had closed his eyes, and drifted off into a light sleep; though he slept, Luke could feel still feel the ecstatic glee within.

Luke smiled, silently letting his mind rejoice with his father's youthful nature. Their roles had been reversed; Anakin, prostrate and vulnerable on the bunk, now seemed more in need of protection than Luke had been. With a sigh, he reached out and tousled Anakin's disheveled hair; his father furrowed his eyebrows in sleep, before settling into a comfortable slumber.

He had many questions to ask his father now—about his life before the Empire, about their mother, about Obi-Wan and the fight that had transformed him into Darth Vader. But not now. The time would soon come for that. For now, they both needed rest. 

Luke rose from Anakin’s bunk and walked to the other side of the room. He reached out, and punched a switch set into the wall. At once, a newly-made bunk slid out of the wall opposite Anakin's. Quickly settling into the second bunk, he had barely slid his boots off his feet before he sank into a well-deserved slumber. They still had an hour or so before they reached Endor; he could afford some time to rest.

-

_ During the Battle of Endor--Aboard Imperial Escort Shuttle 1138 _

_ The face seized with terror…the grieving, tear-stained eyes…the obvious curve of her stomach, where her hands moved so protectively… _

He was dreaming about Padmé again.

A sudden crackling over the comlink was enough to arouse Anakin from his light sleep; he had been resting fitfully, and was not able to fully energize himself at all. The regenerator had taken so much of his power…it would surely take some weeks before he would be able to perform normal functions once again.

_ Normal…functions…? _

With an astonished realization, the former dark lord of the Sith propped himself up on the bunk. Almost trembling with anticipation, he extended an arm in front of his body—tanned skin, sinewy muscles, healthy veins—it was impossible.

He had been in some sort of drug-induced stupor as Luke had taken him from the machine, and had been totally unconscious as he was brought aboard the shuttle. He had recovered briefly and spoken to Luke before drifting off again, but now…now he had regained full control over his senses. As he ran his fingers through his dark blonde, wavy hair, the full gravity of the situation struck him.

He was human.

Not merely a reconstructed human, more mechanical than organic…no longer a stump of a torso with cybernetic limbs, and half the organs in his body replaced with sentient machinery. He had literally been reborn. He had been placed into the regenerator as a dying, malfunctioning half-droid, and emerged as a young, healthy boy of twenty-two. The same, irrational happiness once again stirred up within him, and a thin smile formed on his face.

"Alive," he whispered again to himself, feeling a joyous shock as he realized that his old, boyish accent had once again returned. Now, as Anakin Skywalker once again, he felt…optimistic. Of all the emotions that stirred beneath his newly reborn skin, the most prevalent was the optimism that flooded his veins. A pure and simple hope for the future…a hope that he thought was long since lost to him.

But the feelings were not so simply felt. Even as Anakin felt himself rejoice in his rebirth, along with that hope came pangs of guilt. Here he was, given a second chance, when he had been responsible for the deaths of so many since he started down the path to the Dark Side. Why did he deserve to be here, when he had taken that chance away from so many others.

With a quick realization, he turned to look opposite him. Luke lay, breathing calmly, on the other bunk; his hair fell into his eyes, and he was curled up in an almost fetal position. A sudden warmth welled up in his father's heart; with a pained expression, Anakin reached out to lay a hand on Luke's shoulder.  _ Thank you, Luke _ , he whispered through the Force. Luke seemed to acknowledge his sentiment; he shifted slightly, stretching himself out in a much-needed doze.

_ He has done too much for me, _ Anakin thought, frowning.  _ So young…if only we had been able to know each other as he grew older. _ And then there was the question of his sister—Anakin's daughter. So there had been two children, after all. But this girl—it could not have been…? No…even when he had been mercilessly interrogating her on the first Death Star, she did not give in. The blood of a Jedi…did it course through her veins, as it did through Luke's?

The crackling on the comlink had started once again. Static at first; faint voices and other noises were soon discernable against the noisy background. "Luke?" a voice finally asked, filtering through the other sounds. "Luke, are you there?"

Anakin looked over to his son; the boy lay in exhaustion, and needed as much sleep as he could get. Against his better judgment, he rose from the bunk and placed his bare feet down upon the cold metal floor of the shuttle.

He found that his former athleticism had not yet returned; still clutching his old black cape wrapped around his lower body, he almost limped down the corridor, passing the small storage closets and entering the cockpit.

The voice on the comlink had grown a bit more urgent as his heavy steps neared the dashboard. "Luke…Lando said you were in this shuttle. We need to be sure. You must identify yourself before the Rebel forces shoot you down…”

Anakin hesitated. If he understood correctly, Luke needed to confirm that he was piloting the shuttle. Otherwise, they could still be in danger from the Rebel forces, who were ready to shoot any Imperial ship clear out of the sky as soon as it approached. 

“Luke, please, if you’re there. Identify yourself.” It was the voice of a young woman, and there was no mistaking who it was. The voice was crackling with static and other interference, but the tone, the timbre of her voice was unique.

Anakin frowned. Sitting down in the pilot's chair, he slowly picked up the communicator from its place on the dashboard. Clearing his voice, he mentally prepared a short script in his mind. He had to perform the little act correctly, or she would know that something was amiss. Besides--this was his first opportunity to talk to her like this, as Anakin, even though she thought that she was speaking to her brother. The communication was so rough and unclear that he did not think that she would notice anything amiss with his voice, if it came through with a healthy dose of static.

"Leia," he greeted, in a slightly deeper tone than his natural voice. “I’m okay. I’m alright.”

A few seconds passed before Leia answered him. "Thank the maker,” she said softly. There seemed to be multiple people in the room with her; he heard several voices murmuring behind her. “Do you hear that?” he heard her ask. “Commander Skywalker has identified himself. Clear him for landing immediately.”

Anakin sighed. So he had been able to simulate Luke’s voice in a somewhat believable manner.  _ Perhaps. _

“Were you injured in any way?” Leia pressed him. “Will you need a medic?” 

“No, no,” Anakin said quietly, though the thought of being treated with bacta was actually extremely appealing at the moment. “I’m fine.” He closed his eyes, reaching into his mind and trying to find Luke there, trying to figure out what Luke would say. “I will land the shuttle and come to you,” he settled upon.

"Well, just hold up a bit longer,” Leia said encouragingly. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Luke. I just…” her voice trailed slightly. “I need to know before you land.” Her voice wavered for just a second. “Is Vader dead?"

Anakin felt his heart grow cold at the sudden question, wrought with Leia’s eager tones. Searching for a reasonable response, he did not reply for a few seconds. He could easily lie and say yes, but a small voice inside him resisted. A part of him did not want to deny his own existence; but he knew that now was not the time for inner struggles.

"Luke?" the princess's voice asked once again.

"I'll tell you everything when I get back," Anakin answered finally, with a sigh.

There was a slight pause. "Alright," she finally replied. "Please be careful." A muffled sound emerged from the comlink, followed by a couple of voices muttering a quick argument.

"Luke!" another voice greeted after a few seconds. "I knew you'd be fine, I just knew it."

It was the smuggler, the mercenary Han Solo…Anakin was unsure how close Han and Luke were, and decided to play it safe for a bit. "Thank you, Han."

"You sound a bit different…" Han replied. “You alright?”

Leave it up to Han to be the skeptic. "It seems like the static is flaring up," Anakin said matter-of-factly. “I’m fine...I’m okay.”

There was a pause. "Well, take care of yourself, kid…get back here safe. We're waitin'."

"Will do, Han," Anakin replied.  _ Will do _ , he thought quickly. That had been something he heard Luke say before.

Another quick scuffling noise came through, and Leia's voice once again spoke. "See you shortly…" Her voice seemed to trail for a second, before coming back with a slightly awkward tone. "I love you."

Anakin blinked for a moment, at a loss for words. "I love you too," he answered. "I will be back soon." The communicator once again resumed its usual crackling sound as Anakin pushed it back into the dashboard.  _ I told her I loved her _ , he thought to himself, leaning back against the cold padding of the captain's seat.  _ Even though I did it under the pretension I was Luke…I have not uttered those words since… _

"Hey..."

Anakin turned to see Luke standing in the doorway, a puzzled expression upon his tired face. "Were you just communicating with the Alliance?"

"Leia contacted you," Anakin replied. Realizing his slip of the tongue, he quickly corrected himself. "Captain Solo and Princess Leia," he said again. He was not yet in the business of referring to them by their casual names. "They wished to verify your identity. If not, the Rebel forces were poised to fire at will on this shuttle.”

Luke knit his eyebrows. Coming up behind the captain's seat, he looked down at Anakin's disheveled, wavy head. "There are some spare clothes in the back of the shuttle. You'd better change. We should be on Endor in around twenty minutes."

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I should,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “It has been a while since I've worn clothes other than my life support armor," he began, rising from the seat. He stood a few inches taller than Luke; his bare feet padded against the floor grids as he slowly headed to the back of the shuttle. Luke looked back at him, still in dull shock at his father's complete change in appearance; though in terms of behavior, it still seemed that Anakin was not yet ready to shed his formal speaking tones. Luke honestly doubted that Anakin had been able to trick Leia and Han into thinking that he was Luke, but he couldn’t care less about that, at the moment. Settling back into the captain's seat, he propped his legs up on the dashboard, which was something he usually never did. He needed to think.

_ What are we going to do when we arrive on Endor? _

Did he dare to tell Leia and Han about Anakin?

The glaring answer that came screaming back at him read  _ No.  _ Luke sighed. He could not find any other way around it. How was he going to explain to Leia that he had decided to rescue the man who had let billions of people die on Alderaan? Leia’s feelings towards Vader exceeded hate -- there was an utter loathing, a complete desire to see Vader suffer. Vader had clamped his hand down on her shoulder while her heart had broken in agony during her planet’s destruction. And for Luke to have taken pity on Vader, and even helped him become young and whole again--he knew Leia would think it was a complete betrayal.

And Han...of course not. Vader had tortured and interrogated him on Cloud City, and had been the one who had ordered Han to be frozen in carbonite. Han would never think to have sympathy for Vader now, after all that had happened. And certainly not where Leia was concerned.

A sound near the back of the cockpit caused Luke to look up. Anakin stood there, dressed in tight brown battle pants with a blaster strapped to his belt; a military-looking tan jacket was unbuttoned to his collarbone, revealing just a hint of the black undershirt he wore underneath. Brown dewback-leather boots were strapped to his feet. He strode into the cockpit, radiating a slight discomfort that Luke could feel distinctly. 

Anakin had to admit--although he was infinitely relieved to be back in this young body, it would take him some time to become  _ himself _ again.

"Well?" he queried, coming into the room. “It appears that this ship was used for espionage at some point--there are an array of different outfits in the back.”

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you look just like one of those scruffy Rebels," Luke answered, suppressing a grin. Anakin smiled and sank down into the copilot's chair, next to his son.

"Good," he answered lightly. “I will try not to arouse suspicions.”

There was a brief silence before Luke once again piped up. "I need to speak with you about what we're going to do once we reach Endor."

Anakin nodded. "What did you have in mind?" He was not used to being shepherded around like this; as Vader for so many years, he had grown used to making demands and having them immediately met. Now, he quickly reminded himself, he was not in control anymore—Luke was, and his own freedom and survival depended on what Luke thought would be best for them to do.

"Well," his son began, sitting back in the chair. "We land on Endor, and Han and Leia and the others will want to know I'm safe. I have to at least make an appearance before the Rebel Alliance. I also have to come up with some sort of official report. I’m going to tell them that you’re dead.”

Anakin nodded, though the gravity of that statement did not escape him. “Luke,” he began seriously. “This will have repercussions for you. If I am detected, somehow.”

“How?” Luke countered. “You’re not Vader anymore. How would anyone be able to tell? And what would they claim? That you transferred yourself into another body?”

Anakin sighed. The ideas they were discussing were preposterous, yet all of it had actually happened. “Then what do you wish me to do?”

Luke looked away from Anakin, towards the approaching greenery of the forest moon of Endor, looming through the viewscreen of the shuttle. “Just blend in, like you said,” he offered. “Until I figure out where we’re going to go.”

Anakin frowned. “Where we’re going to go?” he echoed. “What do you intend? For us both to escape?”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Luke said firmly. “We’re running until I find some place safe for you to go.”

Anakin leaned back, shaking his head. “Luke--”

Luke turned towards Anakin sharply. “Listen,” he said firmly. “I made the decision to take you with me. If the Alliance finds out what’s happened--you’ll be executed on sight.” He sighed. “I’m not going to let that happen. Not now.”

Anakin sat back, swallowing painfully.  _ Luke is too good _ , he thought to himself. He did not deserve this son who sat before him, who was going against all his beliefs in order to ensure Anakin’s safe passage. He needed to remind himself that he was no longer living for his own whims--he was living for Luke, and the thought moved him deep within.

Luke felt Anakin’s sudden rush of emotions, but tried to push them away. He couldn’t let himself get distracted now, even if it was from his father’s own feelings of protectiveness. “What did Leia say?” he prodded. 

"She needed to identify you,” Anakin replied. “She instructed you to be careful, that they were awaiting your return…and that she loved you."

Luke nodded, a small smile forming on his face. "What did you say back?"

"That you loved her as well," Anakin answered, looking back into Luke's azure eyes. Before he could stop himself, he added, "Leia sounds so much like Padmé."

"Padmé?" Luke asked, sitting up in his chair. The name, as soon as Anakin spoke it, felt somehow familiar; even only a few seconds afterwards, Luke felt that he had somehow known the name all his life.

Anakin sighed as he shifted himself in the pilot's chair; he had planned to tell Luke more about his heritage at a later date, but the pain of his wife's death was still fresh in his mind—even after twenty-three years, he could not think back on that day without feeling the artificial blood, pumping through his reconstructed veins, freeze with guilt. "Padmé was your mother."

Luke could not stop himself from asking more questions; he knew that this was not exactly the right time to question Anakin about their past. But his mind was full of curiosity, and he felt that he had waited long enough for the answers. "Who was she? Was she also a Jedi?"

"No," Anakin answered. "Her full name was Padmé Amidala…when I met her, she was the queen of Naboo.”

"A queen?" Luke asked, astonished. "How did you meet her?”

Anakin looked down, recalling the long-past days of his youth. “I met her when I was a slave, on Tatooine.”

“A slave?” Luke repeated. “She was a queen and you were a slave?”

Anakin smiled sadly. “Yes,” he whispered. “It’s a long story.”

Luke looked back at him with a puzzled eye. Anakin expected a response, but instead he suddenly felt an inquisitive feeling well up inside him. Luke was extending himself through the Force; if his feelings could be interpreted through words, he was gently asserting himself.  _ I have so many questions. _

Anakin chose to reply using the same, Force-felt communication. Laying a gentle hand on Luke's arm, he replied.  _ There are answers. _

Their brief moment was interrupted by another crackling noise coming from the communicator. Luke briefly picked it up as an unfamiliar voice filtered through the static. "Commander Skywalker, this is clearance from Endor Base, west landing area. Repeat, you have clearance for the west landing area—we've given the command to hold fire for now."

"Copy that," Luke replied. "I'll be there shortly." He hung up the comlink and turned to Anakin once again. "Well, here goes nothing," he said grimly.  _ This whole thing is bound to get out of hand soon… _

Anakin smiled slightly. “You will be able to handle it,” he answered, sensing Luke's apprehension. "You have handled so much, thus far.”

Luke waved his hand dismissively, as though Anakin was describing some minor deed. "None of that matters,” he replied. “Now it's  _ you _ that I'm worried about."

Anakin cocked his head. “I know,” he answered appreciatively. “I am not used to anyone expressing this type of concern about me, as you would imagine.”

“Well, Father, get used to it,” Luke said, raising an eyebrow. 

Anakin blinked at Luke’s use of that word-- _ Father _ . Truth be told, being called  _ Father _ was slightly disconcerting for him. Especially now that he found himself in this young body, as old as Luke now was.

Luke sensed Anakin’s discomfort. “Should I call you Dad instead?” he asked, half-jokingly.

“I don’t think I deserve that,” Anakin admitted. 

Luke cocked his head. There was really only one thing to call his father, in that case. He would have to use the name that Vader had disowned so long ago. Anakin would need to get used to that name once again, and Luke understood that the situation was still fraught. But he had to at least try.

“Well. Anakin, then,” Luke said with a small chuckle, putting as much affection, as much  _ love _ , into that name as he could. Luke was not one who was practiced with speaking tenderly to anyone--but he knew that Anakin’s name, once used, had power. Luke could feel Anakin respond positively, though even if it was hesitant.

Anakin had to admit--hearing Luke call him  _ Anakin _ was so pleasant, so endearing that he could only nod. He reached out to give Luke an encouraging pat on the shoulder as the signal for atmospheric re-entry started to flash on the upper dashboard. The two men hurried to strap themselves in as the shuttle prepared to descend down onto the makeshift landing bay, as Endor's green blanket of forests slowly came into view.

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally published in 2007 on fanfiction dot net! It has been heavily edited and revised for its new life, living on AO3. Hope you all enjoy this story as much as I have, writing it.


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Anakin arrive back on Endor, where Luke focuses on hiding Anakin's identity from the Rebel Alliance. Anakin, meanwhile, makes the acquaintance of a certain princess.

_ After the Battle of Endor--near the Ewok Village _

_ - _

_ Something's not right here. _

She could feel the blood rising within her, in a measure of irrational defense.

_ What is wrong with me?  _ she asked herself, shaking her head in a self-deprecating manner. Her liquid brown eyes scanned the overgrown forest floor in an excited agitation; she could feel her breathing become more pronounced, feel her entire body stiffen in an almost predatory way. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sighed as she momentarily closed her eyes.

_ Luke,  _ she whispered to herself. Though she wanted him to be back with her and the others, she did not try to reach out to him through the Force. She was only newly awakened to the possibilities of communication through the mysterious energies of the Force; she did know how to utilize it, and decided not to try to feel him through it.

She was afraid.

There was someone else with him aboard that shuttle.

-

_ After the Battle of Endor-- in the West Landing Area, west of Ewok Village _

_ - _

The Imperial shuttle gently settled down upon the landing strip, its upfolded wings gently easing off to the side as the shuttle's landing feet clamped down upon the pad below. Within, Luke turned off the main thrusters with a sigh of relief. “In one piece,” he said as Anakin began to unstrap himself. “They’re all going to be here soon.”

Anakin stood swiftly, just as the sounds of a large crowd started to materialize in the distance. “It looks like they are on schedule,” he commented, as Luke rose with a sigh.

An entire squadron of Rebel pilots had appeared, emerging from the forest, cheering and hollering. Wedge Antilles was leading the crowd as they neared the shuttle, rushing forwards. Many of them still donned their orange flightsuits--still others were dressed in unkempt uniforms, mechanics and engineers and ground staff. They were jubilant, excited, and clearly searching for a hero to honor.

It was the last thing Luke needed.

He hastily turned to Anakin, who had a reflective expression set on his face. "I'm going to go out and greet them," he said, rising from the pilot's chair. "They have no reason to check around in here, but you need to slip out after they leave."

Anakin nodded. "It should not be too hard to join your entourage in the end," he said. “I will be cautious.”

Luke frowned. This entire plan was ridiculous, but he was basically figuring this out without a plan. “You need to quit talking so formally,” he scolded. “People will notice something is off right away.”

Anakin tilted his head. Luke was right--the measured speaking, the formality, did not suit this young Anakin anymore. This type of speech was typical and expected of a Sith Lord, but now it was only impeding Anakin from going unnoticed.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll try to…” his mind searched for the right words. “...play it cool, then.”

Luke shook his head with a slight smile. Anakin was trying, but it was clear that decades of being Vader would take time to wear down. “Meet me by Base Camp Eight,” he instructed. “Two hours. And be careful.” 

“Got it,” Anakin answered. “I’ll see you there.” The boys shared a glance as Anakin quickly turned and made his way to the back of the ship. Though his body seemed to be functioning fairly normally, the use of his legs were another story; he would probably have to limp around for quite some time before he got used to the feeling of actual, human legs once again.

Luke sighed. "Why is it that I have a bad feeling about this?" he muttered to himself as he walked to the gangway. Pushing the controls, the hatch slowly started to open, sending its metal plank down upon the landing pad's hard floor. At the sight of him, the Rebels outside began to cheer in raucous glee.

"There he is!”

“Our hero!”

“Luke!”

The entire band of around thirty pilots seemed to surround Luke in a sudden haze; at any other time, Luke would have been thrilled and elated to be greeted with the kind words and ecstatic gestures of his peers. But Anakin's presence made things complicated, and he did his best to hide his restlessness from the crowd.

"Wedge," he said simply, immediately going to his friend. Patting him on the shoulder, he gave him a warm smile. The black-haired man gave him a relieved grin.

"That’s some hello for the guy who saved us twice, now!" he answered, giving Luke a warm embrace. "Glad you came out okay, brother.”

“How’d things go while I was gone?” Luke asked, hoping to distract the pilots with the stories of the ground battles.

Wedge chucked. “You know, we owe those Ewoks an apology. They held their ground here with the rest of the squad even when things got rough."

"Well then, let's go tell them so ourselves," Luke answered. The Rebels crowded around him, talking and laughing, as the entire group started making their way off the landing strip. Luke flashed a telltale glance back at the shuttle before turning back to his friends. "Did Lando get back yet? I heard the explosion all the way from—"

-

Anakin waited five minutes after the group had wound their way into the trees before descending the gangway--as fast as his limping legs could go, anyway. There were bonfires all over the vast expanse of forest, and the largest collection of lights had been blazing only a few paces west of the area. Taking a quick look around, he quickly moved off the landing strip.

His boot-clad feet crunched on the cracked ground as he stopped, for one moment, to breathe in the fresh air of the forest. The scent of thick pine and unpolluted air—it had been so long…

Pausing, his mind passed in reverse through his memories, selecting the one which matched his current experience the most. He had not felt air so fresh, so sweet, since the day he and Padmé had been married on Naboo. Even though it currently nighttime on Endor, and he stood at the edge of a forest and not of a lake, the air held the same liberating feelings it had held for him in those days as—

_ A presence. _

Anakin spun around, his hand directly moving to his blaster. His lightsaber was gone, but he would make quick work of anyone who tried to…

The short woman who stood behind him shifted slightly, her long chestnut hair cascading in waves down her back. She wore a coarse green dress made from hemp fibers, with primitive sandals on her feet. Though Anakin stood nearly a head taller than her, he could not help but feel the innate grace that emanated from her smaller being; her beautiful, rounded face betrayed a look of mistrust as she crossed her arms, eyeing him.

He knew who she was, immediately. But he didn’t have time to think.“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he greeted, giving her a stiff military bow. “I was not aware you where in the area.”

Leia frowned, her eyes wandering down to the blaster strapped to his leg. "Solider,” she replied in acknowledgement, packing the word with contempt. This strange man had just given her a very formal, military greeting that was not expected from an Alliance recuit.  _ Odd _ , she thought as she tilted her head slightly. "Your name?”

"Naberrie, Your Highness," he answered without hesitation, using the first name that came to mind. Mentally, he fumed at himself. It might have been less suspicious if that name had not been his late wife’s family name, but with no time to prepare any story, he just spoke the first name that naturally came to mind. 

"You may dispense with the pleasantries." Leia ordered sternly. "Naberrie. What were you doing coming off that shuttle?"

_ She is sharp. _ “I came up with the rest of the troops to welcome Commander Skywalker back to base,” Anakin answered. “I went aboard the shuttle to ensure that no Imperials had been hidden aboard.” His nerves were beginning to tingle. The first time he and Leia had crossed paths was when he had her brought about the Death Star for interrogation. At that time, he had been the instigator, and she was in submission. But now--they stood as equals, yet Anakin felt a slight dread at having to face her. 

"I see," Leia answered. She could not reason why she was being so confrontational to this young blonde man, who seemed to be her own age. Still, she could not shake the uncomfortable feeling that she needed to keep an eye on him. Resolving to stick to her instincts, she nodded her head in the direction of the Ewok Village. "You will accompany me to see Commander Skywalker," she ordered.

Anakin bowed. "Yes, Commander Organa." He fell in line next to her, and together they began to walk towards the brightly blazing lights of the bonfire.

Leia looked over at him once more. There was nothing exceedingly unusual about him-he was rather good-looking, dressed in conventional off-duty military-style clothes with no markings. Except for a slight limp, everything about him seemed normal. But there was something… _ off _ about him. Something that suggested that he was hiding something beneath the positive-looking exterior. Leia had been trained as a diplomat from a young age; she knew the art of biding her time, waiting until a misspoken word or a careless gesture to draw out what she wanted to her.

Anakin, on the other hand, knew that he had to be on the game. Leia was already looking for reasons to suspect him, and he needed to divert attention away from himself. Still, despite the tension between them--he was intrigued, just by walking next to her. She seemed so small, so unassuming, but her presence made itself known just by one glance. 

"How long have you been with the Alliance?" Leia began.

"Just a bit under three years, ma'am."

"What is your full name and rank?"

“Flight Officer Ani Naberrie, ma’am. Shadow Squadron.”

"And where do you hail from?"

_ The best lies contain some shades of the truth _ , Anakin reminded himself. "I'm from Coruscant." That was sort of true, at least. Anakin had spent most of his teenage and adult life there.

Leia nodded.  _ An obvious and easy answer _ , she thought. "I know it well.”

"Yes, I know," Anakin answered, trying to make his tone conversational. “I am acquainted with your work in the Senate.”

They walked down the forest path in silence for a few minutes. In the distance, the cries and cheers of the both the Rebels and the Ewoks lent an oddly festive atmosphere to their tense walk. 

There had to be something she could use to draw more out of him, Leia reasoned. “I believe I have heard your last name before,” she continued reflectively. “I am acquainted with Senator Pooja Naberrie, of Naboo. Do you know of her?”

"Yes," Anakin answered passively, attempting to shake off the irritation he felt welling up inside of him. Of course he knew who Pooja was--Padme’s niece, her sister’s child. Perhaps he should have chosen a name with less personal meaning. “But we are not related, as far as I can tell. My family has been on Coruscant for generations.”

"I see," Leia said. He was answering all of her questions without hesitation, and with answers that were mundane enough to anyone else. But she was still unsatisfied. She shifted her eyes down to his still-weakened legs. "Did you always walk with that limp?"

"Not always," he replied. "I was slightly injured in the battle back there…but my legs should be fully healed soon."

Leia narrowed her eyes as she looked back to glance at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but could think of nothing more to say. Looking back at the path ahead of them, the pair grew quiet as they made their way through the massive tree trunks, nearing the blazing bonfires of the central Ewok Village ahead.

As he looked her over, Anakin noted the roundness of her face, the seriousness of her voice. She was truly Bail Organa's daughter—she had inherited all his sternness, if he could remember Bail well enough. Nothing would ever change that bond—the bond he himself had allowed to be cut those four years ago with the destruction of Alderaan.

He was careful not to make eye contact with her—at the edges of his consciousness he could already feel an aura emanating from her, deep and resistant. How had she escaped his notice when they had met aboard the first Death Star? Why had he not noticed it—the strength of will, the stubborn pride, the sense of duty that his own dear Padmé had possessed so many years before? Perhaps he had not been looking hard enough—perhaps he had lost hope of ever finding that fiery grace once again.

He knew that he could not divulge himself to her; not now, when the situation was still so new and fragile. But in another life--in another universe--perhaps they would have been close. Perhaps he could have loved her.

But right now, in the present, he could already feel her consciousness trying to invade his, and mentally strengthened his mind, closing it from her completely.

They were nearing the Village now—every now and then a squat little Ewok passed by them on the path, always gesturing in playful, excited tones towards the fires ahead of them, which grew brighter as they came nearer. Here and now they would pass small sentry huts, thatched with twigs and tree branches—most had been abandoned for the celebration up ahead, whose noises were now becoming apparent.

Leia smiled down at the Ewoks who greeted her; she had developed a fondness for the bear-like creatures, so courageous and intelligent for their size and appearance. As they approached a group of villagers, one Ewok quickly turned to meet her. The small hooded creature ran to her with a gleeful shriek; she grinned and easily picked him up, hugging him close to her as he clung to her neck. "Wicket," she said simply, patting his back. "You've done a great job."

Leia fully expected Wicket to run off after that, but he clung to her like a child, scrambling onto her shoulders.  _ Undignified _ , she thought fleetingly as she threw a glance to Anakin. In front of literally anyone else, she would have been laughing, squirming, messing around with this little Ewok. In front of this man, however--she did not dare her guard down.

In spite of the wave of immediate distrust that had separated them, Anakin smiled quietly at the Ewok as they resumed their walking pace, Wicket now attached to Leia's shoulders. He found it somewhat strange that such a primitive, tiny race of animals could defeat an entire detachment of stormtroopers. But maybe it had been their willpower, their passion for their home, that had kept them fighting. Along with a healthy boost from the Rebel Alliance. 

Wicket reached out, squirming away from Leia and grabbing a handful of Anakin’s hair. "Hey," he said as Wicket's claws clamped down on the blonde strands, as the Ewok nodded in approval. He reached out, pushing Wicket’s paws away from his head. In another life--as Vader--he would not have let such insolence be tolerated. He had ordered people executed for less. But now, as Anakin...this was something he would not do. 

_ Discipline _ , he reminded himself. He was no longer Darth Vader. But he needed to divest himself of his old habits quicker than he realized.

Wicket had mistaken Anakin’s outstretched arm as an invitation to ride, and instantly jumped onto Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin frowned before accepting the creature with an embarrassed resignation.

_ Patience _ . That was something Anakin needed more of. He thought to himself briefly-- _ how would Luke react to this situation? What would Luke say? _

Luke would probably enjoy this situation. With a sigh, Anakin looked down at the unkempt creature in his arms, still trying to grab hold of his hair. “Now I know I’m irresistible, but don’t you think this is a little ridiculous?” he asked lightly. He was doing it more for Leia than for the Ewok, and it was noticed.

Leia glanced towards Anakin curiously. He had been speaking so formally up until this moment that she had not expected him to soften. Wicket was still fascinated by Anakin's hair; he reached out to claw at it, and took handfuls of it within his stubby paws. "I don’t know how you’ve put up with them this long, Commander," he commented as they continued their pace, Wicket scrambling onto his shoulders.

"I don’t know if we had much of a choice," Leia responded. “But they’re good warriors. They might look cute, but they’re ferocious.”

Anakin decided to just go along with the flow of the situation. He hefted Wicket in his arms and resigned to carrying the curious Ewok down the pathway, like a child. Perhaps having the Ewok around would take some heat off the situation with Leia. 

And he was correct--partially, anyway. As they walked on, Leia still knew that there was something else beneath this man’s calm, bland exterior. Well. She could just have to let it go—for now.

-

_ During the Ewok Celebration--Bright Tree Village Town Center _

-

By now they had reached the outskirts of the village; the huts grew bigger and were spaced more closely together. The various paths that led off into the wilderness slowly converged into one large dirt avenue; passing by several celebrating Ewok families with their loud drums and high-pitched flutes, within the space of a few minutes they found themselves nearing what could be considered the village square. 

In a large open courtyard, surrounded by the brightly-lanterned huts of the chief and the high elders, several of the Rebel pilots and officers had gathered, all in various states of excitement and jubilation. Luke and his landing party were clearly visible, even from far off—the orange-clad Rebels gathered in a cluster around Luke, who at the moment was being embraced by a slightly older man wearing a black vest and pants adorned with the Corellian blood stripe. Leia quickened her pace as soon as she saw Luke; Anakin followed behind her.

Although Anakin and Luke had already established their connection through the Force, Anakin had closed his mind ever since they had last seen each other about half an hour ago. He knew when it was good to communicate, and he knew that now was not the time.But now, with Luke standing right in front of him, it would be a little harder to close his mind completely.

"I don't know what happened to you up there, kid, but your voice sounds just like it ought to," the other man said, playfully squeezing Luke's shoulders. Luke was grinning ear to ear, unperceptive of Anakin's close proximity as Han Solo quickly turned around.

"There you are," he said, throwing Leia a careless smile. "Luke's been looking high and low for ya. Come say hello to your brother, for goodness' sake!"

Leia quickened her pace, and gently glided into Luke's arms, giving him a tight embrace as she planted a kiss against his cheek. Luke gently patted the back of her chestnut head, smiling quietly as she reluctantly pulled away. "I was so worried about you," she whispered, smoothing his cheek. "I'm so glad you're safe."

In a split second, Luke's eyes had moved from Leia's radiant face to observe Anakin standing behind her, Wicket still balancing in his arms. Raising his eyebrows in slight frustration, he quickly worked to conceal his surprise as he again focused on Leia. "I told you there was no need to worry," he said again.

Luke had explicitly instructed Anakin to keep a low profile, but now here he was--escorting Leia, of all people, and carrying an Ewok in his arms. He could hardly bring himself to believe the reality of the situation before snapping back to himself.

The princess knit her eyebrows. "Your voice…it sounded so different when we spoke to you earlier…"

_ What the hell did Anakin say to them?  _ Luke wondered, throwing the question out to his father for a possible answer.

All Anakin felt was a rush of irritation from Luke.  _ I tried to sound like you _ , was his only explanation. Wicket gave his wavy hair another tug, and Anakin quickly lowered the small creature to the ground. "That's enough," he said sternly. The Ewok, seemingly upset at first, quickly got over his distress and scampered off to join his friends.

Leia and Han, thankfully, did not notice Luke's nervous discomfort. "Alright now. You gonna tell us what happened?" Han prodded, breaking into Luke and Leia's embrace. “Sounds like you’ve been through the ringer.”

Leia shot Han a look. “Will you give him a moment to breathe?”

“You can’t blame a guy for being curious!” Han argued. “We all want to know what happened.”

Luke sighed and shook his head. "The Emperor is dead," he confirmed, putting his arms around his two friends. "And Vader…the Vader we know is gone." By this time, the rest of the pilots had slowly dispersed around the clearing, careful to give the trio their time alone. Luke continued speaking in slightly lower tones, his arms still around Leia and Han as they veered off to the side of the clearing, near an empty enclave set into a large rock.

Anakin raised an eyebrow as he slowly noticed the intonations in Luke's voice. Cocking his head slightly, he was unaware that he had been staring until Han turned and gave him a fierce look. "Something wrong, pretty boy?" he asked, with a wry expression upon his face. "Can't you see this is a private conversation?"

Luke winced at Han's rather caustic remark; Anakin, on the other hand, reacted with an intense fury that Luke could feel straight through his bones. For one infinitesimal moment he paused in his narrative, sending a warning glance at Anakin.  _ Calm down. You need to stay calm. _

“You are dismissed, Officer,” Leia added pointedly. 

Anakin shook his head in agitation as he scowled. "Apologies," he said quickly. Turning, he swiftly stalked back down the pathway leading out of the clearing; Luke frowned as he observed the retreating figure, so filled with frustration and pride. Sighing, he turned back to his friends.

“What’s up with that guy?” Han remarked. “Acting kinda weird...”

Luke frowned. “Never mind him,” he said, trying to play it off as well as he could. “Look...I’ve got a lot of things to tell you.”

-

"He saved me, Leia…he threw the Emperor into the Death Star's core." Luke paused here, to give Leia some time to register this. He had spent the last hour telling them what had happened since he had surrendered to the Imperial forces on Endor, and his time aboard the Second Death Star as Vader’s captive.

Leia blinked, obviously unmoved. "It's a miracle you weren’t killed," she said, resting her hand on Luke's shoulder. The thought of Luke dying was almost unbearable to her; they had been through so much together, and the new knowledge of their birth had endeared him to her even more.

Luke nodded, but he had been hoping that Leia would react to the fact that Vader had saved him. 

"What happened after?" Han asked breathlessly, from Luke's other side. The wooden bench they occupied almost buckled under their combined weight; sighing, Luke stood, turning back to face the couple with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I took him with me to the hangar and tried to get him to a shuttle."

Leia crossed her arms. She didn’t have to sigh or gasp for Luke to know that she was quite literally disgusted. "You tried to save him?" she asked dryly. "That monster? The man who killed so many without even so much as a backward glance?"

Luke looked down to the dirt ground, digging the tips of his boots into the dusty floor. "He's our father, Leia.”

Leia shook her head in a warning manner. "You seem to think that matters to me, Luke,” she began. “He destroyed my home, and the only family I ever knew; no matter if he is our father, I could never forgive him for that." Her voice was calm and firm; dangerous undertones echoed beneath. Luke could feel her true sentiments, though they had not yet established a complete connection to each other through the Force.

“But there was good in him,” Luke insisted. “I felt it.”

Leia frowned. “I’m just glad you’re back,” she whispered. “That’s all I cared about.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the small group. In a few moments Han reached out, and settled a soothing arm around Leia's shoulders. "What's done is done," he said reflectively, looking up into Luke's face. "The end of it all is…Vader's not here. Which means that he’s dead." It was more of a statement than a question.

Luke breathed in deeply, and prepared for the lie. “Yes,” he said simply. “When we got to the hangar, I couldn’t revive him. He’s dead.”

Now he was certain that they could not know about Anakin. Leia’s hatred of Vader was so acute that she was unwilling to listen to any of Luke’s entreaties. If she ever knew that Anakin had lived, she would let him be devoured by the Alliance. And as much as he deserved it—as much as he deserved every possible kind of torture and death the Rebels could devise for him—Luke would not allow it. 

He turned away, hoping that Han and Leia would not see the grimace he bore on his face. "I left the body on the Death Star," he said. "I didn't have time to bring it back."

"And good riddance," Leia breathed, narrowing her eyes. "You may have forgiven him, Luke. I understand why, but that’s something I could never do.”

The three ended their conversation in contemplative silence. A funerary pallor suddenly descended upon them—as Luke turned, he no longer felt any joy or happiness in the occasion. The thought of not having their support in this matter depressed him; he could not bear the awful silence any longer. "I'm exhausted," he began—a true statement. "I'm going to get some rest."

Leia, who was staring grimly at the ground, did not answer; Han gave a quick nod. "Night, Luke," he replied, running his hand up and down Leia's shivering back.

The blonde man quickly turned and made his way down the dirt path, passing the small Ewok huts in search of the Rebel base camp.

-

Leia watched Luke as Han rose from the bench, stretching. Luke was not being truthful to her--that much she knew. His mannerisms were so precise that she always knew when something was amiss. Luke had looked straight into her eyes to affirm that Vader was their father, and had looked away to report that Vader was dead.

She did not like the thought that he was keeping secrets from her, but after all -- they were both adults, and she could not order him about like a child. But they were brother and sister, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in her heart. She wished Luke would confide in her--even if she didn’t like what he was trying to stow away.

But in the meantime…

Han yawned theatrically. “Gettin’ late, huh?” he said suggestively. Leia usually knew what that meant. “You wanna come on back to the Falcon for a bit?” What he hadn’t told her was that he had fixed up the bunk in the back, with real cotton sheets and pillows--it was a night of celebration. Maybe Chewy had remembered his task and bought a little flask of Endor wine to leave on the table. 

Leia looked up at him. Any other time, of course she would have accepted. But now, when her mind was aflutter, she would not be able to focus on anything recreational.

“I...I’ll be there in a while,” she promised him. “I just want to stay out here for a bit.”

Han nodded. He knew Leia well enough to know that she made her mind up. “Suit yourself,” he said. He came over to her, but did not kiss her; he merely cupped her chin in demonstrative fondness. “Don’t make me worry.”

Leia smiled as Han began the walk back to where the Falcon was parked. Alone on the bench, she brought her legs up and tucked her knees between her chest. Looking up at the stars, she fell into a silent reverie. In situations like these--when she was unsure of what to do--she would think about her parents--Bail and Breha. Between the two of them, there had been a solution for everything--in diplomacy, in etiquette, in war. But now, he found herself calling upon someone she didn’t quite remember--someone whose name she had never even known.

_ I wonder what you would do if you were here, Mother _ , she thought. But this time, she did not mean Breha, her adoptive mother. She meant her biological mother, a woman whom she only remembered in feelings and emotions. 

_ How would you get Luke to open up? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally published in 2007 on fanfiction dot net! It has been heavily edited and revised for its new life, living on AO3. Hope you all enjoy this story as much as I have, writing it.


	4. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin definitely has complicated feelings about being alive. But now, as Luke had instructed, he needs stay calm and lie low. If he's going to survive, and moreover, not cause any problems for Luke--he was going to have to behave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic was originally published from 2007 - 2011 on fanfiction.net! I've always loved this fanfic, and I felt that it was time to make the migration over to AO3. I've been heavily revising for some time now, and will take some time uploading all seventeen+ chapters up here. Thanks for reading.

Not particularly knowing what else to do with himself, Anakin decided to walk. In the two decades he had spent beneath Vader’s mask, walking had become a welcome distraction from the rigors of his official duties. It was one of the only things he could still do easily, without his cybernetics weighing him down too much. Pacing had become a favored pastime. Now that he had use of his legs again--his real legs--walking was so much easier, so much lighter, that it was unbelievable. 

Anakin restrained himself from attempting to run; he wanted to try it badly, but he knew that a random Rebel officer dashing around the camp would attract some undue attention. No matter what, he needed to stay off everyone’s radar for the time being--especially Leia. With that caveat, and with no particular goal in mind, he meandered around the settlement, observing the Rebel Alliance’s occupation of the Ewok Village.

The Ewoks didn’t seem to mind their visitors--in fact, they all seemed just as exuberant as Wicket had been, scampering and yelling to each other and helping the Rebels carry small supplies. The enormous wooden walkways that connected one group of trees to the next were full of Ewoks and Rebels milling about. The torches were lit, giving off an ethereal glow to the celebrations.

_ Celebrating my death _ , Anakin thought darkly. He knew that Palpatine’s death was the real thing that the galaxy was celebrating--the dictator and despot had finally been overthrown. But he also knew that no one would miss Darth Vader. And there was one to blame for this outcome except himself.

Anakin definitely had  _ complicated _ feelings about being alive. But now, as Luke had instructed, he would stay calm and lie low. If he was going to survive, and moreover, not cause any problems for Luke--he was going to have to behave.

He had been wandering around for about an hour or so before he heard a series of familiar beeps as he descended down one of the makeshift wooden ramps. He narrowed his eyes as he turned around.  _ No…  _ he thought wildly. _ It can’t be... _

-

Luke could barely contain himself as he walked through Bright Tree Village, trying to locate Anakin. With everything that was going on, he felt as though he couldn’t let Anakin out of his sight for too long. He was still getting to know this young version of his father, but he already felt like Anakin was going to get himself into trouble if Luke didn’t intercept him.

Still, even in his hurry to recover Anakin, he had the foresight to think ahead. After his dismal conversation with Leia and Han, he had stopped by the Rebel supply barracks to retrieve a datapad, fielding congratulatory remarks and beaming smiles along the way. He would have need for the datapad later, as soon as he got a hold of Artoo-Detoo--wherever the droid had wandered off to.

_ Anakin… _ he thought, pushing out a gentle questioning feeling into the atmosphere. Immediately he felt an answer through the Force. Anakin was nearby--he just had to figure out exactly where.

It took Luke a few minutes to trace Anakin’s signature. He finally glimpsed Anakin, who was sitting on the ground near one of the gigantic tree trunks. And sitting near him was none other than Artoo. This immediately struck Luke as odd, and as he hurried to climb down the long ladder that deposited him onto the forest floor. As he strode up to join Anakin, he raised an eyebrow. “Found my droid, huh?” he asked, sitting down next to his father.

Anakin gave him a knowing smile. “ _ Your _ droid?” he shot back. “Artoo is  _ my _ droid.”

“What?” Luke asked quizzically, settling against the grass. “How is that even possible?”

Anakin laid a gloved hand against the droid’s domed head, and Artoo beeped enthusiastically. “Artoo was my droid during the Clone Wars,” he explained. “He flew with me on almost every one of my missions. He knew my starfighter inside and out,” he said, smiling fondly. 

Luke turned to the small astromech. He was surprised, but the more he thought about, the more sense it started to make. Even the first time he had flown with Artoo, in the Battle of Yavin, he felt an odd connection to the droid. Almost as if the droid knew the moves he was going to make, what reactions he would have to different situations. Artoo had an uncanny ability to anticipate which maneuvers and tricks Luke would pull next, and always seemed to optimize his X-Wing’s systems to properly adapt. Now...maybe Luke could finally understand why.

Anakin could feel that light reaction from Luke. “Artoo tells me you fly like I used to,” he said. “You flew with him on Yavin, didn’t you?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, that time you tried to kill me,” he said with a chuckle. It was still so odd, sitting here with Anakin, that humor was really the only way to handle it right now.

Still, this attempt at dark humor seemed to have a bad reaction on Anakin. He frowned, suddenly thinking back to all the suffering he had put Luke through over the past few years. Beginning with his pursuit of Luke on the first Death Star, and continuing through to the moment he had sliced Luke’s hand off on Cloud City. And even just a few hours before, when he stood back and allowed the Emperor to nearly kill his own son. A sudden wave of shame welled up inside him. _ There is so much I failed to do... _

Luke tilted his head, feeling the sudden change in Anakin’s demeanor. Just a few moments, Anakin had been laughing and joking around with Artoo. Now he had fallen silent, knitting his brows as he looked down to the forest floor. It seemed like Anakin was going through some feelings of guilt over the situations they had endured together over the past few years.  _ I need to tell him to stop worrying… _ Luke thought to himself, before deciding that it would be futile for the moment. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle Anakin’s shame, so instead he laid a hand on Artoo’s head. “Artoo, you been holding back on me?” he asked the droid, trying to inject some lightness into the situation, trying to change the subject. “Have you really been rolling around the galaxy this long?”

Artoo chirped apologetically. Anakin slowly became aware that he had just dropped the conversation. It was something he had grown accustomed to doing in the last two decades. As Vader, he commanded such respect--and fear--among his troops that they did not question it if he suddenly cut a conversation short and strode out of the room. He had to remind himself that drifting off while he was talking to someone else was considered rude by normal standards. And to normal people. 

“Sorry,” he said simply. It was going to take a while before he would really be able to talk to Luke in a way that didn’t seem stilted and mechanical.

Luke looked up at Anakin. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, not really sure what else he could say. “But now that I know you and Artoo go that far back, maybe he can tell me more about what you were like.”

Anakin smiled. “He would tell you I was a reckless pilot and a fighter who just happened to have all the luck,” he said softly. Artoo responded with an affirmative beep. 

Luke decided to keep the conversation moving--they had a lot to discuss. “So, you gonna tell me what happened back there?” he said, angling his head towards the direction of the village. “Why exactly you decided to escort Leia back to the village?”

Anakin sighed. He knew Luke wasn’t going to be happy with this development. “She appeared as soon as I stepped off that shuttle,” he explained. “As if she were lying in wait.”

Luke shook his head, both impressed and irritated. "She's always on the mark." More pressing matters suddenly invaded his mind. "What did you tell her?" he asked.

Anakin scratched the back of his head, recalling the information he had fed to the princess. "I told her I was a flight officer in the Rebellion, and that I had accompanied the group down to greet your shuttle.”

“Yeah...I’m sure she must have believed all of it,” Luke said sarcastically. “You’ll need to tell me everything you told her. We need to corroborate all of it if we’re going to get you out of here alive.”

"And just how are you planning to accomplish that?"

"Easy," Luke answered. "I'll just have Artoo access the troop files, and then I'll have him forge you some identification data so you can get offworld.” 

Anakin tilted his head. He was not used to this type of stealth, this kind of sneaking around. “Do you really think this is going to work?” he asked.

“It’ll work,” Luke replied, in exasperation. “It has to work. I wish you’d just trust me, for once…”

Anakin looked doubtful, but knit his brows. “I do trust you,” he said after a few seconds. “You’re the only person I  _ can _ trust.”

Luke sighed. Even though he was infinitely glad that Anakin was alive, the arrangement was also proving extremely challenging. “Then you have to believe that you can rely on me,” he said quickly. “I’m going to find a way out that doesn’t involve you being discovered and brought on trial before the Alliance.”

Anakin sighed. “You’re being optimistic,” he said in a low voice, meaning it to be both a disparagement and a compliment at the same time. “And putting yourself in a lot of danger because of me.”

“I’ll take it on,” Luke replied gamely. “It’ll turn out alright.”

Anakin felt guilt creeping up in the edges of his soul. He briefly wondered to himself whether it would have been better if he had died--at least Luke would be spared the trouble of hiding him and risking his own reputation and position in the process.

Luke felt the immediate sense of regret piling up with Anakin, and in his own uncoordinated way, tried to use his own feelings to soothe Anakin as best he could. "Hey...how are you feeling, anyway?”

Anakin looked up. “Fine, I think,” he said. Although it had been such a long time since he had been in his body that he didn’t quite know if he was actually feeling normal or not. 

“Alright,” Luke said. “I’m just worried that we don’t know what that machine was doing. “The fact of the matter was that Anakin had gone through a transformation that no one in the galaxy had witnessed before. There had been no precedent, and there was no telling if everything had gone completely right. “If we don’t really know how it works...you could fall apart at any moment.” 

Anakin raised an eyebrow. He supposed this was possible, though he could think of worse fates. “I am still in one piece,” he said. 

Luke cocked his head. “Have you eaten anything?”

Anakin frowned. Eating--and the concept of food itself--was something that had scarcely entered his mind during the last twenty years. “I haven’t,” he confessed. “I do not know if that is advisable at the moment.” 

“Well you’re gonna have to eat  _ sometime _ ,” Luke said, standing up. He turned over to Anakin. “C’mon, let’s go get something.”

Anakin stirred uncomfortably. “Go ahead,” he instructed. “I will wait for you.”

Luke sighed. “You probably haven’t eaten all day,” he said. He knew he was scolding his own father at this point, but Anakin was being stubborn. 

“I haven’t eaten in over twenty years,” Anakin replied, looking up at his son. “You will forgive me if I am not accustomed to being asked to share a meal.”

Anakin was being cold all of a sudden, but Luke could sense something else besides distaste--there was a bit of apprehension as well. “Maybe you didn’t need to eat when you had all those systems keeping you alive,” he said carefully. “But you’re human now. And we don’t run on machinery.”

Anakin sighed. Luke was talking in the same way Padmé used to talk, whenever Anakin found himself doing something foolish. “Fine...I will accompany you,” he said, finally giving in. “Whether I actually take something for myself is another story.” Artoo, who had been watching the exchange silently, now let out a few relieved beeps. 

Luke nodded. This was as much as he could ask from Anakin. He knew that Anakin was going against everything he had known for the past twenty years, and he had scarcely been back in this new body for six hours. Old habits did not break in one day. It would take time, which they now had. And Luke was grateful for this--he knew that Anakin was doing this mainly to appease Luke, not because it was something he really wished for.

“Come on, Artoo,” he said, signaling for the droid to follow them. 

Anakin sighed as they started walking down the path. In a way, he was almost afraid to start being human again--it was so unbelievable, so surreal that he was afraid it was a dream that would soon end. He would wake up in his old body, as Vader again, and it would all have been an illusion. 

The simple act of taking in food would prove to Anakin that he was human again, he supposed. Besides, Luke was right--he was getting exhausted, not having taken in nourishment since the night before.

As they walked along together, it struck Luke that this was really the first time they were walking together peacefully like this. He had walked with his father before, when he was Vader--the first time had been when he turned himself in on Endor, just yesterday. The second time was the long walk from Vader’s shuttle to the Emperor’s throne room, just a few hours before. But both of those situations had been tense and fraught. Now, as they picked their way among the leaves and branches, they settled into a comfortable silence, an atmosphere that glowed. Not with anxiety, but with a silent and tender trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where this story will begin to deviate a bit from the original fanfic. I'm going to be adding in more dialogue and just more situations as I see fit. This scene may not have been momentous in any way, but I sort of just want to show how new and awkward Luke and Anakin are around each other. Luckily Artoo is there to moderate!

**Author's Note:**

> My initial ideas when I started writing this story (in 2007) was that I wanted a fic where Luke and Anakin interact (not Luke and Vader, since that's a whole different dynamic). I realize that the concept of a "regeneration mechanism" is corny, but honestly…with all the cheesy cloning technology in the SW universe, I didn’t think it was that far off. And other than a Force ghost haunting scenario, this was the only way I thought to do it.
> 
> The title "Ameliora" was taken from the English word "ameliorate", which means "to make better". I shortened the word because I wanted something exotic; just out of coincidence, I looked up the word "ameliora", and it is an actual Romanian word which means "to improve". It really makes sense in the context of this story.
> 
> Please stay tuned for later chapters to be uploaded shortly.


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